Dark Paradise
by Princess Sammi
Summary: Songfic: Behind her bright green eyes she is stuck in limbo, longing for the one she wants the most, and yet can never have ... Lyrics removed.


**Disclaimer: I don't own The Worst Witch, and the song 'Dark Paradise' belongs to Lana Del Rey.**

**A/N: This was **_**supposed **_**to be my project for the next few weeks, but I was having a quiet weekend and the televison was dire so I figured I would just carry on. If you haven't yet heard Lana sing, then I URGE you to get hold of her 'Born To Die' album: buy it; download it; nick it; I'll even burn you a copy. It literally is the definition of Perfection! **

**I suppose in a way, this is very very loosely linked to my previous one-sided love songfic: 'Thinking of You', as I have referred to a few parts of it, in this. :)**

**XxX**

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><p><strong><strong><strong>AN - Edited 2013- song lyrics removed. I've worried for some time about copyright laws and have thus made the decision to remove the lyrics from any writing I have done. :)******

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><p><strong><strong><strong> Dark Paradise<br>******

Imogen Drill had many friends, but few close ones and even they didn't know her deepest secret. Hell, if they did they would think she was mad. Maybe she was? Still she knew what they would say if they did. They would tell her to give it up and move on; they would tell her to forget, but she couldn't. She wasn't able to.

She had Serge: a man who was so in love with her he'd walk over hot coals to be with her and yet … she couldn't get _'her'_ out of her head; her heart; her fantasies and her dreams. She had fallen under her spell, well and truly.

And now, now she was drowning in an ocean of suppressed emotions, the murky bottomless depth of the water clouding her surroundings: she couldn't see; she couldn't hear; she couldn't breathe. Fresh agony washed over her heart again and again and she wished it were as easy to just wash away her feelings, like the tide coming into the beach and washing away the sandcastle, leaving no traces of it having ever been there.

As it was she was stuck in limbo: neither able to stay with the man who loved her nor be with the woman she loved. Trapped between opposites: a myraid of conflicting emotions and thoughts crashing around her like the waves of a rough tempestuous sea. Right and wrong. Fantasy and reality. Constance and Serge. She was standing on the jagged rocks singing her love song to a man who was hanging on intently to her every word, and to a woman who didn't appear to be listening.

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><p>Yet, there were times, brief fleeting moments in time when she felt Constance could hear her. Those moments were treasured, for in them she was singing the melody of her feelings to the witch and was hearing the harmony right back.<p>

She had tried to fight her feelings, of course she had; tried to convince herself it was all in her head, a nonsensical fantasy, but she knew it not to be the case: her heart had always ruled her head, and even though she had tried to ignore what it was telling her she couldn't. She knew she would break Serge's heart, but it wasn't fair on him to have a relationship based on a lie, he deserved better.

She knew that her feelings were wrong, but she also knew that you couldn't choose who you fell in love with and sometimes, the heart just wants what it wants, even if it leaves a trail of destruction in its wake.

Constance wasn't there with her. But she felt her, all the time. Her presence lingering all around, bringing a sense of comfort; the light floral scent of her perfume wafting through the air.

Gradually she was beginning to face facts, she could never have her, at least not in the way she wanted to. She had become content with just being in the same room as the witch; times where their eyes would lock for a split second and for that second, nothing else mattered except that moment in time. Those were the moments she wished she could freeze.

She had memorised everything about the woman. The way her long brunette locks cascaded down her back, like a rippling waterfall, the curls framing her face, those dark tresses contrasted perfectly with the porcelain skin, giving her an almost etheral appearance. And her eyes, framed by long dark eyelashes; those deep brown eyes that concealed and yet displayed so much. Her face was singed into her mind, and there was nothing strong enough to erase the image.

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><p>That day replayed in her head all the time, she was fearful that if it didn't it would disappear from memory altogether. Them standing on the bridge overlooking the river bank, the rippling water beneath them bubbling away in the brook. The way her tears had fallen, out of her control as the droplets had fallen, hitting the river to be forever lost; the way Constance's fingers had lingered on her skin for just that split second longer than necessary, the delicate brush as she wiped away her tears, and that moment … the kiss.<p>

Their kiss; too brief and yet so perfect. The way their lips had connected, the tingling sensation, before Constance had pulled away and fled. Her whispered words of "we can't" resonating in her ears.

She was haunting her, even when she wasn't there she could feel her around, and yet it felt so real. She felt so connected to her as their souls intertwined.

Constance was the only person that could make her feel alright. When she was around, she felt like she was safe. Like nothing bad could happen. Her own clad in black guardian angel.

She made her feel alive; stirring emotions and feelings she hadn't felt in such a long time, and had possibly never felt. It was more than fantasy and lust, more than infatuation, and those silly little school-girl crushes, this was love. And when she wasn't there, nothing felt right. The world darkened.

If she closed her eyes for long enough, she could dream. Let her mind drift off to a magical place far away. In that place she was still standing on her rock singing her love song, like a mermaid's siren calling out in the distance, but this time. Her plea was answered. It wasn't real though, merely a bittersweet wish.

There was 'no-one'. There was only her. No-one else could even come close. She occupied every corner of her mind. She yearned for her; longed for her.

Constance wasn't hers, but she hoped with every ounce of her heart that one day, maybe in another life, she could be. Together they could experience life together; feel life's breath; life's pain; life's love, the love overcoming the pain; intense yet beautiful.

She had always been unlucky in love, but had never let it get her down. Choosing instead to live by the mantra of 'plenty more fish in the sea'; sure enough that one day, she would find her fish, and wouldn't let it slip through the net.

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><p>Her friends always asked her how she did it? How she coped with the pain of heartbreak when a relationship ended? And she told them that she believed in finding true love, and now she had, all those years of pain were worth it. They thought she meant Serge, of course she didn't, but she didn't correct them.<p>

Deep down she knew that Constance would never openly return her feelings, but it didn't stop her clinging to the hope, that one day she would. And until then she would wait.

She could and would wait as long as it took. As long as she could still see her each day.

See her face.

Hear her voice.

Feel close to her, even though they couldn't be further apart.

After that day at the river Constance had avoided her, she tried to tell Imogen otherwise, but it was obvious. She was avoiding her because she didn't know how to react. It was a situation she couldn't place in a certain category of her emotions. And Constance didn't like the unknown; she had to remain in control.

Always.

Part of her regretted ever saying anything. She should've kept quiet. It was better to have Constance in her life in some form, even if it wasn't how she wanted. Part of her had clung to some false hope that she might have returned her feelings. Said I love you back. When she hadn't she had died inside.

The pain was too raw.

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><p>She would see her in her dreams. Reaching out, so close and yet so far away.<p>

Their fingers would be so close to touching, the spark dancing between them, and just before they could connect, the image would dissipate as she woke.

She would find herself thrust back into reality, lying in bed next to Serge; his arms wrapped around her, holding her close. When they only arm's she wanted around her were Constance's.

She hoped that one day, that would be the case; those arms would wrap around her own.

Those fingers would intertwine with her own, clasped around her hand.

Those dark lips would gently caress her own.

Everything that she wanted.

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><p>Her face haunted her dreams; her voice soothing as it called out the harmony. She tried to call back to her, but no words escaped.<p>

When she had met Serge he was exactly what she needed at the time, but now she was in over her head. Things were moving so fast; they had gone from the early days of dating, to living together and now there was talk of marriage and settling down. It was all too real, and she had to put a stop to it.

She could feel her touch as it caressesed her heart.

Like a shard of glass Constance was lodged deep into her heart, and though the pain hurt so much, to remove it would be ten times worse.

Staring into the distance she doesn't want to face the reality that she isn't coming. That she is never coming. She fights against reality, clinging on to the warped paradise she is in. Her flood banks have long worn out, unable to hold the tears back as they envelop her, pulling her down to the bottom of the ocean.

Still she hopes that one day, if only for a moment. They can be together. In paradise; the two of them together, and as the sunlight breaks through, offering that chance of hope, that chance of paradise, maybe it won't be so dark.


End file.
